


Before you go.

by anna_woolf



Series: As we wait for the next season.... [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, My very first Johnlock thingy ever, expect fluff, oh boy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-28
Updated: 2013-12-28
Packaged: 2018-01-06 11:37:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1106361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anna_woolf/pseuds/anna_woolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has established that women just aren't his thing. He's into guys. He's certain of it. Unfortunately, guys don't seem to be into him. That is, until he literally bumps into Sherlock Holmes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before you go.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippingOrange](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingOrange/gifts).



> This is my very first Johnlock thingy ever. So I dedicate this to the ever so lovely Angela (shippingorange). She is the Sherlock to my Moriarty. Without her, I wouldn't have reached this level of insanity.  
> Also, inspired by this lovely gifset: http://welcomebackholmes.tumblr.com/post/70826289358/au-meme-love-at-first-sight

For once in the rainy country of Great Britain, the sun was shining. It was a miracle John didn't exactly pay attention to. He'd had enough sun during his tour in Afghanistan. Now the big yellow orb only reminded him of dust and pain. He really was more of a staying inside person anyway. Unfortunately, his therapist had demanded he'd meet her twice a week so he was forced to leave the tiny little flat he'd managed to rent on his even tinier army pension. As an entire vocabulary of cursing popped into his mind, he tried to stay upright in the metro. He knew he should've walked but for some reason his lazy brain had decided not to. Now he was stuck in a metal box during rush hour, regretting most of his life's choices.

One of the things he regretted was the relationship he'd just left, barely a week ago. Her name had been Ellen and they'd been rather happy together. Until John had come to the baffling conclusion he found a man's behind more aesthetically pleasing than a woman's bosom. He just couldn't help himself. Whenever a handsome man passed by him, he turned to look at his ass. Of course this had raised a few questions but he'd never really acknowledged it. After John had hesitantly admitted he might be into guys, Ellen had been quick to leave him. Even though he should probably feel bad for it, he couldn't help but feel slightly relieved. At least now he wouldn't have to fight over it anymore.

As the train went on, John’s eyes scanned the other people in his wagon, his thoughts anywhere but present. He noticed a few City boys, fresh out of university and hoping to make big money. Then there were the four teenage girls, giggling over some famous actor in the magazine they were holding. In the corner there was a man of about John’s age, earplugs in and buried deep in a book. On the cover, John could see a drawing of a dragon. From underneath the man’s cap came a few strings of blonde hair. He had to admit the stranger was rather attractive but he realized approaching the guy would end in a horrible disappointment. People just didn’t seem to like him very much. Maybe his lousy flirting skills were to blame for that. The train stopped and the doors hissed while a mechanical woman’s voice told them to mind the gap. The stranger got off and disappeared into the crowd inside the station. John sighed, turned his back towards the now empty corner and looked up at the route details. One more stop and he’d be out of here.

Only about seven minutes later the ex-army doctor made his way up the stairs, into London’s busy street life again. It was five o’clock and people were anxious to get home for dinner. Avoiding various mothers with children and business people mumbling into their phones, John zigzagged through the crowd. As he realized he’d forgotten his therapist’s address, again, his hand slipped into the inside pocket of his jacket to pull out his diary. Quickly glancing down while his fingers searched for the right page, he didn’t notice the man twirling around and, more importantly, coming right at him.

* * *

If there was one thing Sherlock Holmes hated, it were people. They scurried around like ants, rushing from their homes to their work and back without any interest for life at all. Not to mention the fact they disturbed him in his work. It was already hard to find any connection in the tickets he clenched in his hand, this mass of mindless creatures didn’t help either. Cursing at everyone who bumped into him, he tried to find the restaurant belonging to the bill in his hand. For his newest case, he had to retrace a man’s steps by using the tickets and bills he’d found of the day of the kidnapping. Even though his vast knowledge of the city did help a hand, he didn’t seem to find this particular restaurant. Whether it was a clue or just coincidence he had yet to determine.

Twirling around in order to take in his surroundings, he didn’t notice the man walking towards him with his eyes cast down into his diary. Because neither of them were paying attention to where they were going, a collision was evident. Turning around one last time, Sherlock felt his back come into contact with something and he quickly looked over his shoulder to see what dared to interrupt him. He was just in time to see a smaller, blonde man stumble back and mumbling: “Watch where you’re going!”

Sherlock frowned, now turning towards the other completely. For some reason, the stranger seemed overwhelmed, as he stared up at the detective.  The man uttered a few sounds before softly apologising. Sherlock now tilted his head in curiosity, the frown on his face even growing.

“Why are you apologising? I bumped into you.”

“Sorry,” the other repeated.

Slightly baffled, Sherlock straightened his back and shook his head. People really did confuse him at times.

* * *

 Out of everyone he had ever bumped into, this stranger really had to be the most handsome of them all. John couldn’t really say anything sensible at that moment, so he just mumbled an apology, his eyes still locked onto the other man’s face. If he hadn’t known any better, he’d say he looked like an angel. The raven black hair that danced around the other’s face, his more than visible cheekbones and the perfect Cupid’s Bow of his lips just stunned him. And even though the stranger was right by questioning his apology, John just muttered a second one, unable to do anything else but look at the man.

Not seconds later, John was brutally awoken from what seemed like a trance, as his beautiful view had disappeared. He turned on his heels, blinking rapidly. Had it been just a dream? Apparently not, as he could see the stranger’s coat disappear among the crowd. In an impulse, John went after him, his heart racing in his chest. For some reason, he felt as if he couldn’t let this one go. He had to at least attempt some form of contact other than mumbling.

“Wait!” he exclaimed, grabbing the taller man’s wrist.

As he turned around again, John tried to swallow the lump in his throat.

“I-I’m John. John Watson. Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” he said before he could even properly think it over.

He then extended his hand at the other, praying he’d take the offer. The black haired angel seemed to hesitate for a moment but then did slip his hand into John’s.

“Sherlock Holmes. Will coffee-to-go qualify as well? I would prefer not to waste time by sitting down.”

“Yes, yes! Of course. What shall I order?”

“Black. Two sugars, please.”

John nodded before quickly going into the coffee shop a few feet away from them. His hands were shaking and he could barely control his breathing, but it was worth it. Hopping nervously from one leg to another, he waited until the barista handed him the two cups of coffee. For just a split second, a disappointment hit him as he didn’t see Sherlock anywhere. Luckily, he then noticed the black coat across the street. Barely looking at the traffic, John rushed over to him, plastering a light smile on his face.

“Here you go,” he said, handing the other his cup.

Sherlock took his cup with a slight nod, but then quickly slipped his hand around John’s wrist.

“Wha-?” John uttered but the man seemed to ignore all protest.

As John looked down, he noticed the other was taking his pulse. He frowned, looking up again to watch a small smirk tug at his perfect lips.

“So uhm…what do you do? You seem to be rather busy,” John asked slightly uncomfortable after Sherlock had pulled back his hand and began walking down the street.

“I’m a consulting detective,” he replied, not even glancing at John.

Suddenly, he stopped abruptly, turning to face John.

“Before you ask anything and waste my precious time, I will explain all over dinner tonight. 8PM at 221B Baker Street, will that work?”

Now John was completely confused. This man was incredibly strange but somehow it didn’t scare him away. It only drew him in more.

“D-dinner?” he muttered in surprise.

“Yes. Dinner. You, me, food. Call it a date, if you wish,” Sherlock explained, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

“A date!?”

John’s heart missed a beat and he felt blood paint his cheeks in a soft red color. How could Sherlock know he was planning to ask exactly that: a date.

“Yes, a date,” Sherlock sighed, slightly annoyed by the man’s surprise, “You are obviously attracted to me, as your pulse is elevated and your pupils dilated. Buying someone coffee is often considered flirting. As I am on a pressing case at the moment, I’d prefer meeting again in a more quiet place when we both have more time to properly get to know each other. I believe, mister Watson, that sharing dinner with a person you would like to engage in a relationship with is called a date. So, shall I see you again tonight?”

“S-sure. Yes. 8PM. I’ll be there,” John managed to whisper, staring up at the man before him as if he’d just seen a ghost.

“Perfect. Until tonight,” Sherlock replied with a little smile at his lips before turning on his heels and disappearing into the crowd.

John was left behind with a cup of coffee in his hand and more questions than a human mind could take. About one thing he was sure, though: he was definitely in love.


End file.
